Trenchcoat
by FireyFreedom
Summary: Dean doesn't understand the fangirl's obsession with Sherlock's trench coat, so he goes and buys one to prove them all wrong. Sam and Cas decide that it's time to take him to bed. Wincestiel


Dean understood the value of a good coat. Why do you think he wore that awesome leather one all the time? What he didn't understand was everyone's fascination with a great big wool trench coat with the collar popped up. Sam had seen the latest version of Sherlock and gone gaga over Sherlock's trench coat. Dean preferred the khaki one worn by a certain angel, but he'd never admit that out loud.

It wasn't just Sam, even Cas approved of the look, and it felt like every other teenage girl they interviewed got hot and wet at the mere mention of Benedict Cumberbatch, cheek bones and coat included.

It was ridiculous, that's what it was. It was just a freaking coat after all. But no, everyone seemed to think that coat conferred godhood upon its wearer. So, just to prove to all and sundry (by which he means Cas and Sam) that is was totally ridiculous to be that in love with a coat, Dean took a trip to a local mall while the angel and younger hunter did some research.

It took hours of looking, but finally Dean found an approximation of the coat that wasn't ridiculous. He paid for it, stuffed it in the trunk and went back to the motel.

Five hours and one crisis averted later, Sam was popping the top off of two beers, Cas having declined one, and wondering why the hell Dean had to go back out to the Impala. Cas was exploring a website called Tumblr.

"It really is a nice coat."

Sam hummed in agreement with the angel. It was a damn fine coat, and man if it didn't give Sam some seriously impure thoughts about what he could do with that detective.

Before that train of thought could go any further there were several teen aged fan squeal from outside the hotel room.

Sam and Cas rushed outside, interested in what Dean had done to the girl's to elicit such sounds—come on, we all know the distinctive noise of a teen age fangirl going into orgasmic shock—from underage girls and hoping to save him from the cops when both stopped dead.

Dean was giving the still muttering posy of teenagers his patented 'I'm Dean Winchester and I am not amused and you will get on your knees right the fuck now 'cause I'm so sexy' glare—which never failed to make both Cas and Sam a bit weak in the knees (something they'll never admit to out loud)—AND wearing a reproduction Sherlock trench coat with the collar popped up.

Cas' mouth popped open while Sam had to actually clap a hand over his own mouth to stop the moan that wanted out. Once the human had gotten himself more or less under control he strangled out "God Damn it Dean."

Dean turned, wanting to get Sam and Cas in on the joke, only to be stopped dead by two sets of lust blown pupil looking back at him.

"IN the room. Now." Cas snaps, turning around and fucking flowing back through the still open door.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, because while they were all aware of the sexual tension, hadn't there been a tacit agreement not to say or do anything?, but Sam has just grabbed him back the lapels, shoved him back against the Impala and shoved his tongue down Dean's throat, and really, did anything else matter?

Once the wolf whistles and camera's started they realized that inside might be better, not that Sam wasn't having visions of bending Dean over the Impala, but Cas was waiting, and well, it's not polite to make an Angel wait.

They stumbled into the room, Dean pausing to kick the door shut and lock it, looking up and Sam's moan.

Cas was splayed across the bed dressed only in his tie and pants, "Thought you two were going to leave me waiting."

"Fuck no." Dean grunts, turning to Sam, "Get naked."

Sam visibly shudders at the rough command, and stips out of his shirts, boots and jeans, kneeling on the floor next to the bed, eyes large and on Dean.

"Jesus, the coat really does get you two hot doesn't it?"

"Yes."

Okay, two rough and fucked out voices is so much better than one, can Dean just say. He looks at Sam, "Touch him, touch Cas, just the way you like it."

And oh _fuck_ Cas lets out a whimper just as Sam brushes his fingertips, just barely down the angel's chest beside the tie.

Dean doesn't consciously decide to palm himself through his jeans, it just happens.

Sam shoots him a dirty grin before gripping Cas' hair and bending his head back to lay hickies on that long neck and that is just it.

Dean's straddling Cas, coat tails falling to either side of slim legs, hand joining Sam's in the angel's hair, mouth on the other side of that fucking gorgeous neck, and Cas is moaning like a pornstar, rocking his hips into Dean's and gripping Sam's forearm with on slender, white knuckled hand.

Dean is suddenly struck by how, despite long fingers, Cas' hand doesn't even span the whole width of Sam's arm. His baby brother is large and muscled, and yes, Dean wants that cock that is so very proportional up his ass now.

Sam seems to understand the heat in Dean's eyes, because large hands are stripping Dean, even as the older hunter works his way down Cas' chest, wringing so many delicious sounds from the angel that it almost comes as a shock when a moan works its way past Dean's lips when Sam takes him in hand, working his dick slow and thorough, and _Jesus_ just like that.

A large hand pulls Dean's head back and teeth sink into his neck, eliciting a hiss because god damn that's good, and then Cas is laying his hand over the burn on his arm and Dean fucking jerks between them, letting a long moan fall from his lips.

"That's it, let us love you," Sam's voice whispers low and rough in his ear.

"But—" Dean tries to regain control, but then Cas's free hand joins Sam's on his dick.

"Let us," the angel growls, and Dean throws his head back, closing his eyes and letting go.

He sucks Sam's fingers when they're presented to his mouth, and as Sam starts to finger him open he spreads Cas' legs and licks the angel wide open, taking special pleasure in the thrill of _wrong_ that comes with rimming an angel.

Cas is whimpering steadily when Dean pushes in, slowly and gently, hand cupping the messy hair on the bed, Sam's hands stroking the angels cock to keep him distracted. When Dean is completely seated in Cas they both exhale a shaky breath. Sam kisses Dean's tense shoulder, breathing hard.

"Just like this Dean," Cas murmurs, bringing his hand back to the mark he made dragging Dean back from hell. This time the jolt is soothing as well as arousing and Dean leans down, pressing his forehead to the angel's, getting lost in blue eyes as Sam slides into him in one long thrust, and shit now they're all interconnected and isn't that just perfect?

They start, Sam and Dean in perfect coordination, because aren't they always?, and Cas picking up the rhythm quickly, because he's a fast learner when it comes to the Winchesters, and then they're coming together and collapsing, Dean still sandwiched between the other two while they pet him and whisper to him, asking to be let inside and allowed to love on the older hunter. Tired, sated, and content for once, Dean whispers his assent, kissing each of them once more before falling asleep.

Maybe there are merits to the trench coat, but he still prefers his leather jacket.


End file.
